


To Dream of Autumn

by earthquaker



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthquaker/pseuds/earthquaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is story of an artist. A loft. A window. A fire escape ladder. Another man. A leather jacket. He climbs through artist’s window. He hangs around even though his company is unwanted. Always comes back until one day he doesn’t, because everyone has a plot twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Dream of Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my awesome friend Lenora, for her birthday, based off of one of the edits she made for a fic she said would never get written. I hope this is what you wanted!!!!!

William buys the loft because of the high open windows that let light stream in at all times of the day. Because of the view across the city scape. Because of the space to have his own studio. Because it is far enough away from anything he recognises that it doesn’t remind him of what he left behind.

Since he moved to Seattle, William’s days have a gentle monotony about them. He’ll get up early and wander around the city, photographing the world as it wakes up. Then maybe at around 11am, he’ll have a shoot; someone who has got engaged or had a baby will want nice photos. That doesn’t happen as often as he’d like though, but he makes enough to get by. He hasn’t had a shoot all week, in fact. He’d had a few regular clients in Chicago and his work had been featured in galleries a couple of times. People in Seattle don’t know William yet. _Good,_ he thinks as he wanders down the street back towards his loft. It was a clear, sunny day and he got some good photos of the sea and of the Space Needle disappearing up into the sky. He stops in the art supply shop at the end of his street but doesn’t make any eye contact with the shopkeeper as he buys more charcoal. It’s become a regular habit, going to this shop; William keeps trying to remember to look up where some others are, so he doesn’t keep going back to the same places.

It’s half past 12 when William gets back to the loft so he makes a sandwich and then he goes into his makeshift dark room to develop some of the photos he took this morning. He draws some of the photos he took as well, careful, geometric lines of streets and buildings sweeping off into the distance. He sits in the red glow of the dark room and draws. Mike used to tell him not to do it, that it was bad for his eyes but William, well, William isn’t thinking about Mike anymore.  William _definitely_ isn’t thinking about Mike while he’s in Seattle.

Time seems to have slowed for William, sitting in the small room with the blacked out windows and only the rumble of his stomach alerts him to the fact that it’s been hours since he last ate. He glances at his watch. 17:36. William wonders if the man is here yet.

 

_William had only been living in the loft for three days when he first showed up. William had walked out of his bathroom, towel around his waist, scrubbing a second through his tangled hair when he’d heard a low whistle coming from the window. He’d jumped and turned towards the sound to see a man standing on his fire escape, leaning against the sill of the open window._

_“What the hell?” William had cried out, grabbing the towel around his waist whilst trying to cover himself more with the second towel. “What are you doing? You can’t be here!”_

_The man had smirked lazily at him and slowly run his eyes across William’s body. “Ah, but I am, aren’t I?” he’d said, sliding his sunglasses off of the top of his head and over his dark eyes. The man leaned forward, resting his elbows onto the windowsill, poking his head in through the window._

_William had stared incredulously at the stranger, leaning so casually into his apartment._ Sunglasses, _William thought,_ who does this guy think he is? It’s January in Seattle. _“Do you live in this building?” he asked._

_“No,” the man replied. “I… knew a… previous owner…”_

_“Well, I’m sorry but they don’t live here now. This is my loft, I live here now. Not you or anyone else.” William was desperately hoping this guy would leave soon, he was feeling very, very naked; due to the sunglasses the man was wearing, William couldn’t tell where he was looking._

_Instead of turning and leaving, like William had hoped he would, he asked, “No, you’re right. What’s your name?”_

_“I want you to leave, now.” William could tell hinting wasn’t going to work._

_“That’s a funny name. Is it a nickname?”_

_“I’ll call the police?” William tried._

_“And tell them what? A strange man is standing on my fire escape and he wants to know my name?” The man stood up from where he’d been leaning in through the window and rested on the railing opposite. “I’m sure they’ll be rushing to help you.” His voice was low and after he was finished speaking he shut his eyes and titled his head downwards._

_William watched him cautiously. He was pretty sure this guy was some kind of serial killer. Or maybe a vampire. “Look, I’m not even dressed. Can’t you come back when I’m dressed?”_

_The guy snapped his head up, eyes open, looking straight at William. “Fine. Mr I-want-you-to-leave. Can I call you I-want for short? Because—,”_

_“It’s William, ok?” William said quickly, cutting him off._ Ok, maybe vampire was a bit too much. _William thought._ He’s good looking enough to be though. Wait, what?

_“Well that’s much better.” The man smirked again. And then he turned and walked down the steps._

_It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared down the steps of the fire escape that William released he hadn’t gotten the man’s name._ Ah well _, William thought,_ I don’t care anyway _._

That had been three months ago. William still hasn’t found out what the man’s name is. In fact, in seven months he’s learnt nothing about him. All William knows about him is that he turns up on William’s fire escape, at around 6pm every day, wearing the same leather jacket and the same sunglasses, whether it’s snowing or sunny, stormy or clear. William doesn’t want to know anything more about him really; William doesn’t want to get attached. In William’s experience, history repeats itself all too often. He doesn’t want this guy to be another Mike, interested in him for a while but then as soon as someone more interesting, prettier, more confident, more everything William isn’t, comes along-- Well; that’s when William just seems to get… forgotten. As soon as a better option presents itself to this guy, he’ll leave. William’s glad he doesn’t have any friends here to introduce to the man. However, as stupid as it first seemed, letting this guy sit on his windowsill every evening, William knows he is far less lonely than he would have been, had that guy never shown up. William always tries to squash those thoughts though. He doesn’t need anyone. He isn’t lonely.

William eats some ramen and then looks at his watch as he puts his bowl in the sink. 18:04. He runs the tap and rinses out the bowl. When he’s done he turns towards the window. And there, sure enough, is the man. He swings his legs through the low window and sits on the sill. Sometimes William considers getting a window seat installed there, but then the man might think that William and wanted him there. He doesn’t. He wishes he would go away.

“Hey,” William says.

“Hey William,” the guy smirks. The guy usually sits on the windowsill. He leans against the chipped white paint of the window frame and talks. Not about anything in particular; about a guy he went to college with who managed to pull off being a girl for the whole first part of college; about his old band; about the old man he saw in the park. He never uses names and when William replies with his own stories, he never uses names either. It works for the two of them, they learn about each other without ever really learning anything. Sometimes the man comes into William’s loft, sometimes he sits on the couch and plays guitar whilst William draws. But that’s as far into the loft he goes, William hasn’t shown around ever, he definitely hasn’t shown him the dark room, that’d be showing this man far too much of himself. William’s known him for more than half a year now, but to him, he’s still a stranger. William doesn’t know when he became so cautious of making friends but he is determined not to let this guy in.

They don’t talk about much. That evening, the man plays William’s guitar, singing songs William has never heard under his breath. William sits opposite him with his sketch book in his lap, drawing the guitar and trying to capture the movement of the man’s long fingers across the strings. William is so deep into his drawing, trying to get the right shading of the side of the man’s thumb, that he doesn’t notice the music stop until the man asks, “William, what date is it?” His voice is low and thin and William has to strain to hear it.

“August 5th, why?”

The guitar crashes to the floor, the cacophony of the strings echoes around the loft. “I’m sorry, I just--,” the man rushes to the window and before William can ask what’s happening, he’s gone. By the time William has got to the window, the shadow of the man is disappearing around the corner at the end of the alleyway beneath William’s fire escape.

*

It’s been three weeks since William last saw the man. Since he last showed up at his window. Since he sat on William’s sofa, played his guitar or told him stories about the people he’s seen in Seattle. William sometimes sees him in his dreams, sees his dark eyes, hears his warm voice, feels his long fingers on William’s skin. More often than not, William wakes up with his boxers clinging to his skin and the times he doesn’t, he’s still hard. On those mornings, William has to take a cold shower. It’s hard to jerk off to the memory of someone you don’t know, even if you’ve seen them every day for seven months. It’s hard to jerk off when about someone when you can’t put a name to the face you see behind you eyelids.

William didn’t worry too much the next night when he didn’t show up, he’d rushed off pretty quickly the night before. It had happened before too, but he’d always been back the next evening. Often without an explanation, but then, William didn’t care. Just like he didn’t care now.

So William gets on with his life. His days are still the same as they were before the man disappeared, except now he sits alone in the evenings, now he barely speaks to anyone at all.

 

Another week passes and William accepts that the man will never show up again. He pours milk onto his cereal and sits at his breakfast bar. He’s accepted the fact that the man had maybe decided he wasn’t interesting enough. William’s not thinking about how maybe he’s sitting on someone else’s fire escape. The thought makes a strange bubble of jealousy swell inside him. _No,_ William tells himself as he eats his cereal, _you didn’t even know him._ He thought about all the things him and the man had talked about, the way he’d always seemed interested in William’s stories, even his most boring ones. William dumps the bowl in the sink and walks towards the bathroom. As he passes by the window out to the fire escape though, he sees a scrap of paper stuck underneath one of the empty ceramic flowerpots that had been left out there. He tells himself that he’s being stupid, that it’s probably just a bit of rubbish, even as he is opening the window and sliding out onto the cold metal of the fire escape. He can feel his heart beating in his throat as he bends down to pick the paper up. With shaking fingers, he unfolds it.

            _‘William,_

_I hope you find this. I’m sorry for my absence. I’m sorry I never explained. I realise that it was unfair to you, to disappear like I did. If you’re willing to hear my explanation, I will be waiting for you in the park at the end of the street from 11 o’clock on Friday. I understand if you don’t come._

_Gabe’_

William reads the note  over and over. _Gabe._ That was obviously the man’s name. William wasn’t confused by that part, but he was confused as to _why._ Why now, when it’s been weeks since he vanished? Why even bother explaining himself? Today was Friday, five to eleven but William wasn’t sure if he even wanted to go. He stared back down at the note and crumpled it up in his fist. What if Gabe’s explanation really was that William was boring and uninteresting? But William wanted to see the man-- no, Gabe—again. Even if it meant hearing his flaws listed to him, he wanted to go. _So much for not caring,_ William thinks as he pulls on his jeans. In less than five minutes, he’s snatching his keys from the counter and running out the door; the note still crumpled in his hand.

 

As soon as he sees Gabe, sat on a bench with his back to him, William stops running, catching his breath. He has no idea what to say or what to do. He takes a deep breath and heads over.

“You never even told me your name,” is the first thing out of William’s mouth when he arrives next to where Gabe is sitting. He’s still wearing the same leather jacket, but the obnoxious sunglasses are absent.

“You never asked,” Gabe replies, looking up at him. “I’m sorry though. I owe you an apology. I should’ve told you that I probably wouldn’t be back. And then. I _couldn’t_ come back and it’s got to the point now where—I wouldn’t have had to have told you this, if I’d just been more honest before. I’m sorry.” William sits carefully down at the other end of the bench. He’s wary of Gabe, in his leather jacket. He’s still not convinced he isn’t going to pull a knife.

“You’re sorry?” William asks. “What for? I mean, obviously for not telling me you were going but… I didn’t think I mattered that much to you…” he mumbles. William knows that he isn’t important to people, not even people he’s known his whole life, he definitely isn’t important to Gabe.

“Wait, what?” Gabe looks shocked. “You don’t think you matter to me?” William softly shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “You do, William. You took my mind off of… things… I’ve been missing you so much. I wish I’d never stopped coming to see you, I wish I’d tried harder. But it’s too late for wishing, we have to move forward. Can you just listen to me for a bit? No interrupting? Please? I know I sound like a crazy person but…”

William looks up at Gabe and nods. He smiles slightly. “You do a little bit, but go on.”

Gabe smiles back, bigger and brighter. Then his face suddenly falls. “Okay. You know how everyone has a plot twist, like a big thing that’s happened to them that completely changed who they were?” William nods again. “Well, in order for any of my actions over the past few months to make sense, I’m gonna have to tell you mine.” Gabe takes a deep breath and looks away from William, out towards the sea, towards the Space Needle in the distance.

William can see tears forming in the corners of Gabe’s eyes and so, without thinking, he blurts out, “I found my fiancé in bed with my best friend the week before our wedding. They were fucking, obviously. Had been since before we got engaged.”

Gabe is staring at William again, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with shock and sympathy.

“That’s- that’s my plot twist. You said everyone has one. There’s mine,” William whispers.

“Wow, William, I’m so so---,”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. Firstly, you’ve already said it enough, the word is losing its meaning. And secondly, there’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad I’m rid of the asshole and I learnt a lot of valuable lessons.”

Gabe throws his arms around William and hugs him tightly. “So you decided to run away to Seattle and never get close to anyone? Great coping mechanism there,” Gabe mutters into his ear.

“Hey, I think that’s enough criticising of my life choices. I believe you owe me a plot twist.” William extracts himself from Gabe’s hug but stays sitting close to him.

“Okay, yeah. So, mine’s kind of a longer story, I guess. I knew the person who owned the loft you live in before you did. She was an artist too, actually, sculpture though. She made the weirdest pots I’ve seen in my life.” There was a tiny smile on Gabe’s face. “She didn’t live at the loft, she just used it for a studio, but I guess the landlord converted it back to an apartment. This girl, Vicky, and I, we went to college together and I, I think I was maybe in love with her.” He’s smiling properly now, staring off across the park. “We never really dated, but…” Again, as it had after he’d smiled earlier, his face falls suddenly. “We would’ve done…” He trails off.

“Gabe?” William asks. “What happened?” He keeps his voice low and careful.

“She died. Car crash. Some idiot on his mobile phone, I think. I don’t really know what happened.” There are tears in his eyes again but he smiles slightly as he says “Her parents wouldn’t really tell me, they never liked me.”

William chances it, he whispers, “I am so sorry.”

“Hmm,” Gabe still doesn’t look at him. “Not as sorry as I am. I used to go the loft every day after she died. Hoping that maybe she’d come through the door, singing to herself, or she’d be sitting in the main room making another one of her fucking weird pots. But then one day you were there. And, yeah, at first I was kind of annoyed. Like ‘who is this guy? What’s he doing in Vicky’s space?’ But then, I don’t even know why, but I kept coming back. And I got to know you. And I started to forget about her. I never meant to and when I realised I had I felt so guilty. August 5th was the day she died. It had been a year and I’d completely forgotten that day. That’s why I never came back. I felt so guilty for forgetting, but I went to my psychiatrist and he convinced me that it was ok. I mean, he was kind of mad that I’d been going back to the loft and I hadn’t told him, but I couldn’t stop.”

William is still watching Gabe and he shifts on the bench, moving close to him. “You were so arrogant though, when you first showed up. I don’t know what to say, Gabe.”

Gabe leaned back and slumped down on the bench. “I think we’ve both got a lot of fucked up stuff going on in our heads right now. I realised you didn’t want me around pretty early on but I was selfish enough to not want to leave. At the beginning it was because of Vicky, but later on it was because of you. I’ve been so… wrapped up in what happened that I thought I could never move on and then suddenly it had been a whole year and I had moved on and I was so, so shocked that it had happened I—,”

“Gabe.” William interrupts. “Breath. It’s ok. Let me talk now.” Gabe reaches out and takes William’s hand, clasping their fingers together on the bench between them. “You’re right when you said that I didn’t want you there. At first, I didn’t. I wanted to be alone; I didn’t want to get too attached to anyone because I would eventually find out that they didn’t need me. And I told myself I didn’t care about you, when you stopped showing up, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about what had happened. But I was lying to myself. I was so lonely, Gabe. I think. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I think we need each other. You’re right about running away to Seattle not being a great coping mechanism. It wasn’t. At all. And I know it’s going to be hard and you’re probably going to feel guilty about Vicky a lot of the time but, it wasn’t your fault and she probably knew you loved her, you don’t seem like a subtle kind of person to me.”

Gabe laughs. “Okay. So I’m about to be very unsubtle again.” Then he reaches up and cups William’s face in his hand.  William swallows almost misses it when came moves closer and kisses him. It’s cold in the park, but Gabe’s mouth is soft on his and his hand is warm on the side of his jaw. William untangles his fingers from Gabe’s and reaches out to pull him closer, his fingers sliding on the leather of Gabe’s jacket.

Gabe moans when William digs his fingers into his side and when he opens his mouth into the kiss, William licks across Gabe’s bottom lip. They make out on the bench for what feels like hours, lost in the hot slide of lips and tongues and the feeling of each other’s hands pressing against their bodies through the layers of clothing. When they stop to catch their breath, Gabe pants “I… I don’t want to… rush into this, William. I want to, take my time with you. You’re— _we’re_ important to each other. And yeah, I don’t want to fuck this up.”

William leans in again and gently kisses him. “I get it. I do. So, are you gonna take me on dates then?” He grins at Gabe. “Wait, does this whole not rushing in thing mean no sex? Because I’ve been thinking about you fucking me whilst still wearing that jacket since I saw you.”

Gabe quirks an eyebrow at him. “Oh really,” he smirks. William smirks at him and then gets to his feet. He pulls Gabe up and they walk across the park together.

 

*

William sells the loft because he’s making enough money now that he can afford a proper studio. He’s got a gallery show next week. One of Gabe’s friends helped him get it.

William sells the loft because he doesn’t want Gabe thinking about all the ghosts in it. Gabe doesn’t want to either.

William sells the loft because he’s moving in with Gabe. They’ve been in a proper relationship for just over six months now. Just before William packed up his stuff though, they had sex on the fire escape. William was worried about the neighbours seeing so they did it at night with the lights off. It was cold but Gabe wore his leather jacket.

William sells the loft because he isn’t alone anymore. He doesn’t need the space, he has Gabe to fill it. 

**Author's Note:**

> (i am sorry about the absence of porn, I couldn't fit it in, I will write you a coda for christmas maybe? :D)


End file.
